


Time Could Never Kill The True Heart

by liam22



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-25
Updated: 2009-03-25
Packaged: 2017-10-15 14:17:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/161651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liam22/pseuds/liam22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title: Time Could Never Kill the True Heart<br/>Author:  liam22<br/>Fandom: Heroes (Gabriel/Claire, Noah)<br/>Word Count: 5355 words<br/>Beta:  Thanks to Maddie for all her help and convincing me this was worth something.  And special thanks to cameroncrazed for the super beta job.<br/>Summary:  He was going to get the life he always saw for himself.  Whatever it took, however long.  Set post "I Become Death".  Every other section is a flashback.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Time Could Never Kill The True Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Time Could Never Kill the True Heart  
> Author: liam22  
> Fandom: Heroes (Gabriel/Claire, Noah)  
> Word Count: 5355 words  
> Beta: Thanks to Maddie for all her help and convincing me this was worth something. And special thanks to cameroncrazed for the super beta job.  
> Summary: He was going to get the life he always saw for himself. Whatever it took, however long. Set post "I Become Death". Every other section is a flashback.

He buys a ring with his first official company paycheck.  It’s not overly big (something she definitely deserved) but it catches the florescent light of his cell in a very enticing way.  
   
He carries in his left pocket everywhere he goes.  It’s a touchstone of his new life.

A new life she insists doesn’t include her, as she shovels a brand new screaming baby into his arms.  He leaves the company three days later, the little boy nestled in his arms, and the ring still securely in his pocket.  
   
He’s determined to make a new life for himself (and the unnamed baby) but nothing quite works out the way he plans.  His partner dies and his final task for the company is informing his family.  The quick trip to California is comfortably painful.  He sits Sandra down on the couch baby Noah was conceived on and rambles out the preplanned speech, using words like “gone” and “honorable” just like Angela would have wanted.  Sandra doesn’t want to believe him (looking back on it now…if only he knew).  She takes one look at the crying baby in his arms, and with knowing eyes tells him that the guest room is the perfect size for a nursery.

So he stays. And he waits.  He raises Noah, walks the Bennets’ yippy dog, and helps Lyle take care of his deteriorating mother.  It’s the same routine day after day.  Sometimes, he can’t help but wonder if he’s traded on cell for another.  
   
He knows what’s going to happen; Isaac’s stolen gift has taken care of that.  But he doesn’t know when.  He tries to be patient, he really does, but every time he tucks Noah into bed, he can’t help but wonder when he and Claire will be able to do this with another child.

He buys a ring with his first official company paycheck.  He buys her old house with his last.  He doesn’t end up giving either to her until five years later.  
   
\---

She’s sitting on his kitchen counter; it’s the exact spot he last saw her.  Dark clothes, dark hair, his perfectly broken little ex-cheerleader turned company assassin.  There is only one thing she could actually be here for.

She proves him right, by arching an eyebrow and giving him a pointed look that pretty much screams “Strip.”  He glares right back at her, annoyed by her assumption.  Guess nothing has changed, he thinks with a sharp laugh.  
   
“I thought I told you to stay away.  Or are you really that desperate?  Guess you couldn’t find anyone else to stick it in the Living Dead Girl.” The words are strong, harsh, and he wishes he still possessed the willpower to back them up.  But he’s always had a problem saying ‘no’ to her.

“Shut up. You know you want it as much as I do.” She stands up with clenched fists, ready to fight for what she’s come for.   
He hates her like this.

He hates that his body doesn’t.

“No.  Some of us have control, remember?  Some of us know when to walk away.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” she mocks, stepping close enough to touch. Her hand wanders south to cup the quickly growing bulge in his pants.  It’s a liberty she’s no longer allowed, not after she walked away from him and their son.  “If I leave, you’re going to have to take care of this little problem all by yourself.  Now that’s no fun for either of us.”

He yanks her wrist away and pushes her back against the counter with more force than he should have used.  He doesn’t have to be gentle; she doesn’t like it so much anymore.  “Go away…And don’t come back until you’re done with whatever this shit is.”

“What about the baby?” she sneers.

“Just leave her on the doorstep, like you did with Noah. Leaving is a special skill of yours after all.”

“How dare you.  You knew why I had to go.”

“Really. I did?  Cause it seemed to me that you were running away scared.”

“You’re such an asshole, you know that?  Just because you could walk away, doesn’t mean the rest of us could.”

He sneers at the falsity of her words.  She could have left any time she wanted too – just as he did.  
   
“I offered you the world, Claire.  It’s your fault you didn’t take it.” He says almost wistfully, forgetting their argument, but only for a second. “So which name do you like better: Sandra or Meredith?”

She clenches her fists once again and tries to keep from shaking at the memory of two dead mothers.  She’s not that same weak little girl anymore.  She grabs a coffee mug and throws it at his head before he even finishes getting out the second name.  It misses wide and shatters the window next to him.  
   
Lovely, he thinks, now he’s going to have to find a creative way to explain that to his son.  It’s not like he can tell his four-year-old, ‘Mommy gets feisty when she’s horny’.

\---

Noah had only been going to preschool for three weeks when he came home one day, asking about his mother.  Some punk on the playground had been teasing him because his mommy didn’t chauffeur him to school every morning.  
   
“Why don’t I have a Mama to bring me to school? Everyone else does.”  
   
And even though Gabriel knew that Noah was asking the question in the same way he asked why they didn’t have a horse, or why he couldn’t be abducted by aliens, it still felt like a stab to the heart.  What the hell was he supposed to say to that?

He thought about making up a romantic story, about two people from rival companies, who loved each other too much to follow what their superiors told them, and ran away to start their own life (Mr. and Mrs. Smith was on SPIKE last night).  But for some reason, the words just wouldn’t come out.  
   
They went for ice cream instead.  
   
A week later, Noah’s teacher, Mrs. Pawtucket, informed him that Noah had been telling the class that his mother was the head of a justice league of superheroes in charge of putting bad guys away in special level five cells because his Aunt let them all go by mistake.  And in the hunt to get the last one, The Puppet Master, she was taken under his evil spell and buried alive.  
   
“While Appletree Preschool encourages imagination in youngsters, you might want to talk to your son about spreading those kinds of violent lies.”

Gabriel wondered if he should tell the teacher that it probably wasn’t a lie.

Then he wondered if he should go dig up Claire.

\---

They shouldn’t be doing this here, not among his son’s blow-up playhouse and wooden blocks, not while being watched over by his action figures.  His son plays here; he shouldn’t.

But she wants it, and he’s learned long ago that he just can’t say “no” to her.

He can’t bear to look her in the eye as he undresses her slowly.  He doesn’t want to see the cold expression that is pure want and need, and definitely not love.  He wants to pretend for as long as she’ll let him.  He bends her over so her hands are braced against Noah’s easel.  
He presses his lips to the base of her neck.  His kisses say a million things that she doesn’t hear, that she’s afraid too.  He closes his eyes and resists the urge to flip her around and do this the right way.  He knows her can’t.  As long as he doesn’t have to look at her, he’ll be ok.  
As he takes off his own clothes, he glances around the room once more. There wasn’t a teddy bear in sight.  That was her only contribution to parenthood.

 They shouldn’t be doing this here.  He should be stronger than this.  He wants to back away, to tell her to get the hell out, but he can’t.  The hunger that once wanted him to understand everything, to claim more power, now just calls him to claim her.  
   
And for that one moment, he’s no longer Gabriel, reformed killer and perfect father, but once again the man who took what he wanted with no hesitation, as his victim did little more that whimper beneath him.

He’s not sure if he can call it regression though. She might be begging him for release, but ultimately, she was still the one in control.  His fingers dig into her hips angrily at that thought and he gives her what they both want with violent strokes.

As they finish, and her heartbeat slows down, he can hear another one beating lightly.  He’s not sure how he missed it earlier.  
“Is it mine?” he asks bitterly.

She doesn’t bother responding.  
   
He already knows the answer.

\---

Noah’s first word was “Ma”.

His smart little boy spoke it weeks earlier than the baby books said he would.  Gabriel always knew he would be special.

He was making breakfast while listening to Noah’s baby babble and it seemed to come out of nowhere.  
   
“Ma, Ma, Ma,” he was chanting like a mantra, banging his fists against his highchair, and laughing when the action sent his Cheerios flying.   
Gabriel remembers staring in a mix of excited pride – his son said his first word – and worried apprehension.  Maybe his son was psychic, or could find people like that Walker girl.  
   
Or maybe it was just a coincidence that “Ma, Ma, Ma” was currently sleeping off one hell of a hangover upstairs.  It was the first time she had been back since she shoved the nameless newborn into his arms.

He wouldn’t see her again for two years.

\---

“Stay.  I’m making pancakes with faces in the morning for Noah, just like Sandra taught me. He wants to meet you, you know,” he says later.  Her hand pauses on the door handle and she just laughs, a hard, harsh sound, so far away from that lovely little girl he first met all those years ago.

“You know I can’t do that.”

“You mean you won’t.”

“In the end it’s all the same thing.  I refuse to make the mistake my father made.” He didn’t understand what she meant by that.  But, then again, she rarely made sense to him anymore.

 “Really.  Because your father was such a bad parent.”  She didn’t know squat about bad parents.  Of course not, that would require sticking around long enough for them to get to know each other. “Because he supported you, and protected you, because risked his life to save you.  Yes, Bennet was a horrible father.”

“He didn’t save me from you.” It comes out as a whisper, softer than she would have liked, he imagines.  Suddenly, he can see through all the cracks in her walls.  It almost feels like progress.

“Daddy, Daddy…” He turns towards the pitter-patter of little feet rushing down the hallway. With a tug of regret, he knows he’ll be alone if he turns back around. She’s always like that now.  
   
“Noah, what did I say about running in the house?”

“Not to,” he replies with a pout so much like his mother’s it hurts. “Daddy, why is the door open?

\---

When Noah was just learning to crawl, he would follow Mr. Muggles around the house.  He would clamber around behind him, babbling back whenever the dog yipped at him.  It was like the two of them had their own secret language.  
   
Even he had to admit that it was the cutest thing in the world.  
   
Sandra had Lyle follow the two of them around with a video camera when she caught them doing it – Claire would want to see it someday, she said.  She told him that both Claire and Lyle did the same thing when they were babies (it was another dog, of course) or at least she thought they did, maybe.  She would get this confused look on her face, as if trying to reach for a memory that wasn’t there.  
   
That look was coming much too frequent for his liking.  Lyle’s liking too, he was sure, as the boy rushed to assure his mother that the memory was real.  Decades of having the truth hidden from her had finally taken their toll.  
   
“Anyways, when Claire gets back from the supermarket, she’ll want to see the baby’s new trick,” Sandra said with a smile as she rushed off to fix dinner.  He watched Lyle’s face fall, as he tried to find the words to tell his mother that Claire wouldn’t be coming back so soon (Sandra still set a plate for her and her husband every night).  But Bennet wasn’t coming back at all.

She died before Noah learned how to walk.

Claire never saw the videos.

\---

Two months later, he finds her sitting in the rocking chair in Noah’s room, watching his son sleep.  She doesn’t say anything right away, so he contents himself with watching her.  There’s an almost peaceful look on her face and she’s hugging a stuffed blue monkey he’s never seen before.  If not for the black leather and the holstered gun, she’d almost look like a mother.  
   
“I need your help finding Peter,” she finally says, softly as not to wake up their son.  He motions for them to leave the room, pausing only when he sees her hesitate.  Something is different, something must be wrong.  He doesn’t like it.  
   
She walks over to the bed and tucks the monkey in next to Noah, before following him out of the room.  Yes, something was definitely wrong.  
   
In the light of the hallway, he gets a better look at her.  Red eyes and a tear streaked face, baby blonde roots growing back in.  He wonders if it means anything. “What happened, Claire?”

“I can’t…I just…I need to find Peter.” He bits back the wave of jealousy at her words.  Everything was always about Peter; Peter would save the day.  They all seemed to forget that he had more control than any of them combined – especially Peter now.  
   
“Why would I help you find my brother? I’m not as stupid as I look, you know.”

“Trust me, those glasses don’t make you look stupid,” she says with a sad half smile.  Fine, if she wanted to pretend everything was normal between them again, well then, he’d play along.  For now.  
   
“Just tell me what’s wrong and I’ll fix it Claire.” He moves his hands to his shoulders, bending down to her eye level, pleading with her.  “Please let me fix it.”

“You can’t, you can’t,” she sobs sinking into his chest.  He gathers her into his arms and carries her to his room.  He lays her down on the bed as if she was made of glass.  His heart sinks further in his chest when she rolls over and clings to him.  As much as he hated the new Claire, he never wanted her to be like this.

He knows there’s something devastatingly wrong when he wakes up the next morning and she is still there.  
   
\---

After leaving the Company, he didn’t speak to Angela, or any of his supposed family actually, until she called during Noah’s third birthday party.  
   
Lyle had come home from college for the weekend to help him deal with all the little rugrats from Noah’s playgroup invited to the party.  It was going to be Noah’s first real birthday, and Gabriel had gone all out (probably because his mother never allowed him to have one).  There were clowns, and pony rides, and a bouncy house. There was almost a Ferris wheel, but Lyle had quickly nixed that idea.

Nonetheless, all the fussy preparations were worth it to see that look on Noah’s face as he skipped into the backyard and was surprised by all of his friends.  Another Kodak moment caught on camera that Claire would never see.  
   
Gabriel was right about to bring out the cake when the phone rang.  He motioned for Lyle to keep distracting the kids with magic tricks and picked up the phone.  As soon as he heard the voice on the line, he wished he hadn’t.  
   
“Has the boy shown any indication of an ability yet?”

“Well, hello to you too, Mother,” he replied, voice heavy with sarcasm.  She always had a way of cutting straight to the point. He wondered if she ever remembered about Noah’s birthday.

“Has he?” she asked again.  He rolled his eyes at her impatience.  His Mother, ladies and gentleman.

He looked out the kitchen window at his son chasing Lyle around the backyard, laughing Claire’s laugh the entire time.  Noah was his whole world.  “No, he hasn’t,” he said and moments later was met with a dial tone.

Gabriel had always been a good liar.

\---

“Daddy, why is there a lady in your bed?” Noah asks the next morning in between bites of his waffles.

“We don’t chew with our mouths open, do we?” he answers, purposely avoiding the question. His traitorous skin prickles and he knows she’s standing right behind them. He can’t do this now – not when he knows she’s just going to run again. For all he’s wanted to introduce Claire to his son, their son, he’s in no way prepared for it to happen now.  
   
 “Are you my Mama?” Noah asks the strange woman wearing one of his Daddy’s shirts, as she leaned against the doorway to the kitchen. She just averts her eyes.

“Haha, funny Noah.  I knew we shouldn’t have read Dr. Seuss before bedtime.” Gabriel says with a strained laugh, before looking at Claire.  She looked even worse than last night (he wasn’t even sure that was possible – shouldn’t the healing take care of that or something).

“Why aren’t you wearing pants?” the boy asks, undeterred. Gabriel flinches.  Normally the four-year old’s incessant questions wouldn’t bother him, but today…He takes a deep breath. It wasn’t like it was Noah’s fault that he didn’t know his world has suddenly being turned upside down.

“Noah. Why don’t you finish eating your waffles?” Gabriel suggests.  He motions for Claire to sit before setting a large cup of coffee (she definitely needs it) in front of her.  He has to resist the urge to ask her if she still liked her waffles with strawberries; it just brings up memories of their first breakfast together.

He makes her eggs instead.  
   
\---

Gabriel was raised Catholic and even thought he didn’t really believe the same things he used to believe in, he figured that it was good to teach his son religion.  Someone in this family had to have morals, after all.

So, they would get up early on Sundays and dress up for church.  They would say grace before every meal.  And every night, they would kneel beside the bed and pray.

Noah would normally just pray for the stuff that everyone else did – world peace – and the silly stuff that kids prayed for – gumballs as big as his head – but not this night.  
   
“…for health and happiness for everyone, and for Daddy to finally be able to get a new car, and for Mrs. Pawtucket to stop smelling like peaches, and please make sure Billy doesn’t push me in the sandbox anymore, and a really big bike for my birthday, but most of all keep Mama safe… Amen.”

Gabriel didn’t know what to say, just tucked Noah in like it never happened. Once he got back to his own room, his hand hovered over the phone, daring him to call Peter and find out how she is.  Noah’s words kept echoing in his mind.

…keep Mama safe…

Not even he was strong enough to make that wish come true.  
   
\---

He stares at the burns not healing on her skin of her wrists (how in the world did he miss those the night before).  He was angrier now than he’s felt in a while – even after the first time she left.  “You are going to tell me what happened now…And don’t even think of leaving anything out.”

She takes a deep breath, and the tears catch in her throat.  Words tumble out faster than he can catch them something about Peter’s scar, a magic formula, and his newly alive father taking her power. As she talks about failed missions and something called Pinehurst, she seems to collapse in on herself.  It’s only then that he remembers.

“Claire, what about the baby?”

“Our daughter?”  She takes his hands and places them on the small bump of her stomach.

Her eyes close for a minutes, as if her next words physically hurt. “They only want me.  I think I’ll be able to bargain her safety for mine.”

 “I’m not leaving you Claire, not like this.”

“But…”

“Let me fix this for you, Claire.”  It’s as close to begging as he was ever going to get and he’s off to get ready for action with the slightest nod of her head in acceptance.  
   
He would fix this.  No one was ruining his future.

\---

Lyle left for college two years after Gabriel and Noah moved in.

He had encouraged Lyle to look at any college he wanted, the kid certainly had the grades for it, but Lyle insisted on going to USC.  He had joked that he shouldn’t be too far away just in case Noah attempted to be a gourmet mud chef again.  Gabriel just shuttered at the memories of how long it took him and the toothbrush he had for just that purpose to get all the grime out of the intricately carved banister.  He left the subject alone after that.  It wasn’t like he wanted Lyle to go far away.

Still, the day Lyle actually left was harder than any of them thought. He had spent the whole summer preparing for this, but driving up to the seemingly huge dorm buildings, made all his carefully laid out plans and lists go for naught.  God, what was he going to be like when Noah went off to school?

“You’re not growing up for a while, you hear me kid. So don’t get any ideas,” Gabriel told his son.  
   
“ ‘Cept, when I’m big like Lyle. Then I get to go to school.” The boy declared and then went back to climbing in and out of the empty packing boxes.

There were manly hugs and tears (not just from Noah).  And after the kid was pried of Lyle’s leg, Gabriel drove away from the school proud, but still with a heavy heart.  Lyle was the closest thing to a brother he had.  
   
\---

A few hours later, he’s all set to leave.  He wasn’t really leaving Noah all alone with Claire – a call to Lyle had the boy insisting on coming home after his last class.  Getting Noah all settled down is a much bigger ordeal. Gabriel explains to the four-year old the best he could about his trip, and helping Mama, and that he would of course, without a doubt, no questions about it, be coming back for the three of them. 

Noah’s question breaks his heart. He wasn’t the one that always left.

“Here’s his schedule, and a list of emergency numbers, and foods he won’t touch.  Noah’s not allow to stay up any later than eight…”

“Sylar, it’s ok,” She tries to reassure him.  “I’ve babysat before.”

“You don’t babysit your own son, Claire.”  She takes the dig with an embarrassed grace and he’s almost sorry about saying it.  Almost.  “Be good for Lyle and Mama, Noah, ok.  I don’t want a bad report when I get home.”  With that, he hugs Noah again.

Claire kisses him light, quickly. “For luck,” she whispers against his lips. He kisses her again passionately, but with mind towards the little one staring up at them in glee.  She parts her lips for him, but he pulls away instead of letting his tongue touch hers.

“I’ve never needed luck.”

He looks up towards the house one last time before  getting in his car and sees Noah waving goodbye, all while wrapped around Claire’s leg and blowing kisses.

She looks scared to death and he’s not sure if it’s because he’s the one leaving this time or if it’s because he’s leaving her with the one consequence she refuses to face.  Either way, he wishes that look would go away.  That wasn’t his Claire – the girl who drove would-be rapists into walls and stabbed serial killers with kitchen utensils.  He wonders if daddy-dearest took more than just her power.  
   
\---

Parenthood did not come easy to him.  
   
He remembered that first night they stayed in the Bennets’ guest room.  The baby woke up in the middle of the night and wouldn’t stop crying.  Gabriel tried everything he could think of, until he was practically in tears himself.  
   
“Please, Baby please.  Stop crying.” He begged hopelessly.  The doubt crept in.  Only one night into fatherhood and already he was screwing it up.  Here was this little person that was completely dependent on him for everything.  And Gabriel could barely take care of himself.

“You miss her, don’t you? I know the feeling.”  The crying finally slowing to a stop, and the baby looked up at Gabriel with big eyes still wet with tears.  Would he have Claire’s eyes one day? He really hoped so.

“She’s going to love you, Baby. She doesn’t know it yet.  But she will.  She’ll love you just as much as I do.”   The baby just blinked at him, content and quiet.  “You need a name, you know that. I can’t keep calling you Baby forever.”  
   
“How about Noah?” The kid didn’t start screeching again, so Gabriel took it as a sign of approval.  “Yea, Noah. Your Mama would like that.”

\---

Ego must run in the family, he thinks as he walks straight into Pinehurst, Father-Dearest doesn’t even bother with security.  
He wasn't hard to find...little Molly made sure of that. 

"You're late," Arthur scolds from his place reclined behind lazily against his office chair. It is the same tone Gabriel himself often used when scolding Noah for feeding his carrots to Mr. Muggles.  He tenses and has to remind himself to stay calm, in control.  It’s never been harder, when all he wants to do is take his vengeance swift and violent.

"Traffic." Gabriel replies instead. 

"Any way this goes down, Gabriel, I win. I always win." The pencil Arthur is twirling between his fingers embeds itself in Arthur’s other palm.  He looks more annoyed than anything, his confidence un-wavered. 

"Really," Gabriel draws out, wondering if Arthur is going to burst out into manic laughter. That's always how it happens in the movies. "Paid a visit to one of mother’s old friends.  The Haitian, remember him. Such an interesting man."  He relishes in the fear that washed over Arthur's face. He wasn’t as untouchable as he thought.

A finger raises and blood splatters on faux art deco wallpaper. 

He’s back.

It seems like his life didn’t really start until he was looking at all the answers to the universe locked away in Claire’s brain.  Now as he kneels over his father’s corpse, he looks for the answers that will fix her.

\---

It could never be said that Gabriel was a squeamish man.  Anyone who spends time poking around in other people’s brains develops a high tolerance for guts and gore.  But he would never lie and say that there wasn’t one time that the sight of blood on his hands made him sick.

Even though he worried constantly, he never actually thought that anything would happen to his son.  He could predict the future, stop time, and move objects with his mind – if anyone could keep Noah safe, it was him.  Or so he thought.

Noah went through his jumping stage at two and a half.  Couches, beds, chairs; anything that could be jumped on or off of was fair game. “Daddy, I can fly,” he would giggle, leaping from one side of his bed to the other.  Gabriel would have to bite back a smile as he warned Noah again and again to be careful and that if he broke that bed he was going to have to sleep on the floor. His kid was just too cute for words sometimes.

He only turned around for a second to fish Noah’s pajamas out of the dresser when the boy started wailing painfully.  Gabriel rushed over to the boy curled up near the top of the bed, clutching his head.  Blood was everywhere, the headboard, the pillow; it seemed to pour out of the boy faster than Gabriel could stop it with the blanket pressed to the boy’s head wound.  
   
The 911 operator made him stay on the phone the whole time it took the ambulance to get there; it was the longest ten minutes of his life.  He cradled Noah to his chest and tried to calm the boy down, all the while trying to beat back his own panic.  
   
How could he have been so careless? He couldn’t lose Noah, he just couldn’t.  
   
He watched the doctors take Noah away for surgery. The ER seemed brighter louder, more hectic, than any other place he’s been.  
    
He’s never felt more helpless.

It doesn’t occur to him until weeks later when Noah’s pediatrician was removing the twelve stitches in the boy’s head that maybe he should have called Claire.  Neither of them could scar, but now their son would always have one she wouldn’t know about.

He hates that it was one more thing she wasn’t there for.

\---

Dealing with Pinehurst, Primatech, and all the rest of Claire’s little problems take much longer than he expects.  He never wants to be away from his son for that long again.

He pulls up to…well, it’s his house now.  His house, with his family inside of it.  Noah and Claire rush out to greet him almost immediately.  She’s running towards him; it’s a change he could definitely get used to.  
   
His arms are full of his wiggling son moments later, as the boy holds on for dear life.  Gabriel swore to himself never to leave once again.  He looks over Noah’s shoulder to see that Claire has stopped just short of their reunion.  She looks him straight in the eye, wistful and hesitant all at the same time (and god, so gorgeous, all glowing and clearly pregnant).

This is it.  This is his happy ending. After all this time, it’s finally his.

“Daddy, Daddy, the baby’s kicking,” Noah interrupts their moment, running back over to Claire and placing his hands on her stomach.

“Come feel.”

“Yeah, Daddy. Come feel,” Claire laughs and it’s a sound he’s so missed coming from her.  He places his hand right next to his son’s and hugs the two of them to himself.  
   
Claire leans into him, an impish smile on her face as she whispers, “Oh, and I promised Noah you would tell him how the baby got in there.”

\---

Sandra Gray was born in the middle of the night, only hours after her parents were married.  She was so tiny, 6.5 pounds and 17 inches long, with that pink sheen of new life and a few wisps of her mother’s blond hair.  
   
He counted her teeny-tiny fingers and toes – she had to be the most perfect baby girl in the whole world – and tried to ignore the thread of sadness he felt when he thought about the two of them not being able to do this for Noah.

Claire must have known where his thoughts had headed because she sent him a look that said “stop it, this is a happy moment”.

And it was.  After all those years, he finally got what he was waiting for.   
 


End file.
